Horror drenched his expression. “Is that what you think?” Edvard straightened, his eyes suddenly fierce. “Bridget, it wasn’t because of you or any one thing. It was because of an accumulation of stress. If anything, it was my fault for not listening to you and Nikolai.” He grimaced. “I should’ve cut back on my workload, and I didn’t. My heart attack was unfortunate timing, but it was not your fault. Do you understand?”
I nodded, the ball of emotion expanding until it filled my nose and ears. My chest felt too tight, my skin too hot, then too cold.
“I don’t blame you for what happened. Not one bit,” he said. “And by royal decree, I order you to stop blaming yourself.”
I cracked a small smile at the same time a hot tear scalded my cheek.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Edvard let out another, heavier sigh. “Come here.”
He opened his arms, and I walked around the desk and hugged him, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent of leather and Creed cologne. Some of the tightness I’d carried around since his heart attack eased.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed his implicit forgiveness until now.
“You are my granddaughter, and I want you to be happy.” Edvard squeezed me tight. “We can’t break the law, but you’re a smart girl, and you have nine months. Do what you have to do. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I think so,” I whispered.
“Good.” He pulled back and kissed me on the forehead. “Think like a queen. And remember, the best rulers are those who can wield both the carrot and the stick in equal measure.”
The best rulers are those who can wield both the carrot and the stick in equal measure.
Edvard’s words lingered long after he’d left and the late afternoon sun morphed into the cool blues of twilight.
I picked up my phone, my mind racing with the implications of what I wanted to do.
I had one card left up my sleeve, but I hadn’t entertained the notion until now because it was manipulative, underhanded, and went completely against my morals.
It wasn’t a carrot or a stick. It was the equivalent of a nuclear bomb.
But while I had nine months in theory, I respected Steffan too much to humiliate him by breaking up with him after his proposal should I succeed in repealing the Royal Marriages Law. I also couldn’t not go through with the proposal without a good reason. It would send the palace into a tailspin.
So, I had three weeks to get Erhall, who despised me, to bring forward a motion he’d gone on record as being against and convince three-fourths of Parliament to overturn one of the nation’s oldest laws.
The nuclear bomb was my only feasible option.
I scrolled through my contacts list until I reached the name I was looking for. I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen.
Did I really want to do this? Would I be able to live with myself?
This is the life we were born into.
We have nine months. We will figure. It. Out.
Baby, we’re way beyond like.
I dialed the number. He answered on the first ring.
“I’m calling in my favor.” I skipped the greeting and got straight to the point. If anyone appreciated efficiency, it was him.
“I was expecting your call.” I could practically see Alex Volkov’s smile over the phone, icy and humorless. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”
44
Bridget
I’d lost my mind, asking Alex for help. He might be dating Ava, and he might be less…sociopathic since they’d gotten back together last year, but I still trusted the man as far as I could throw him.
Yet for all his faults, he truly loved Ava, and he owed me for kicking his ass into gear before I left for New York. If I hadn’t, he’d still be moping over her and terrorizing everyone around him.
Our call four days ago had been short and succinct. I told him what I wanted, and he confirmed he could get it. I didn’t doubt his ability to pull through, because this was Alex we were talking about, but he hadn’t given me a delivery date and I’d been on pins and needles since.
“Your Highness.” Booth spoke at a lower volume than usual, and his body vibrated with nervous energy as we walked to my room. We’d just returned from an event at the National Opera House, and I’d been so distracted by thoughts of my plan I hadn’t questioned why Booth was accompanying me to my suite when he usually bid me goodbye at the palace entrance.
“Yes?” I arched an eyebrow at Booth’s furtive glances around the empty hall. He was a good bodyguard, but he would make a terrible spy.
“Read it when you’re alone.” He slipped a piece of paper into my hands, his words almost inaudible.
I frowned. “What—”
A maid turned the corner, and Booth stepped back so fast he nearly crashed into the porcelain vase on a nearby side table.
“Well,” he said, his voice now so loud I flinched. “If that’s all, Your Highness, I’ll be going.” He dropped to a whisper again. “Don’t tell anyone else about it.”
He waved and speed-walked down the hall until he disappeared around the same corner the maid had rounded.
My frown deepened.
What in the world? It wasn’t like Booth to be so cryptic, but I did as he asked and waited until I shut the door behind me before I unfolded the paper. Booth wasn’t a secret notes type of person. What had—
Time stopped. My blood rushed to my face, and my stomach swooped at the familiar, messy scrawl before me.
9 p.m. tonight, princess. Two chairs.
No name, but I didn’t need one.
Rhys was still in Eldorra.
A whoosh of relief darted through me, followed by anxiety and a twinge of panic. We hadn’t talked since the hospital, and we hadn’t exactly ended things on a good note. Why was he reaching out now, two-and-a-half weeks later? How had he convinced Booth to sneak me a note? What—
“Bridget!”
For a second, I thought the call of my name came from outside my room, but then I looked up and saw the petite brunette standing in my suite.
Another, wholly different kind of disbelief flooded me.
“Ava? What are you doing here?” I hastily shoved Rhys’s note into my pocket, where it seared through the silk and into my skin.
Her face broke into a wide smile. “Surprise! I’m here to see you, of course. And I’m not alone.”
On cue, Jules swanned into the sitting room dressed in a familiar-looking green coat. “Good afternoon, Your Highness,” she sang.
I cocked my head. “Is that my coat?”
“Yes,” she said with zero shame. “I love it. It makes my hair pop.” The emerald color did, indeed, make her red hair pop. “Your closet is everything. I need an in-depth tour later.”
“You already had an in-depth tour, courtesy of yourself.” Stella came up behind her, clad in a sleek white dress that made her olive skin glow. As the fashion blogger in our group, her closet rivaled mine, though her clothing choices were more casual. “You spent half an hour examining her shoe collection.”
“It’s called research,” Jules said. “I’m going to be a lawyer. Power heels are essential for stomping all over the opposition.”
I let out a soft laugh as I hugged my friends, my shock gradually morphing into excitement. I hadn’t seen them in person since I moved back to Eldorra, and I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed our face-to-face chats until now.